


Take Off

by wicked3659



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: prowl week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: A journey through Prowl's life on board the Ark before the Autobots reached Earth.
Comments: 70
Kudos: 81
Collections: Prowl Week





	1. Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Groon - 1 hour - approx 80 minutes  
> Klik - second  
> Vorn - 83 Earth years  
> Breem - Approximately 8 minutes.  
> Cycle - 1 Cybertronian day - shorter than Earth day approximately 22 hours.  
> Deca-cycle - 3 weeks.  
> Stellar cycle - orbital cycle around a star  
> 1 AU - Astronomical unit = 93 million miles/150 million km  
> 1 Parsec - 3.26 light years
> 
> Ship comm speak in italics  
> //Private comm//
> 
> Written for Prowl Week 2020

**_20.4 Cybertronian Stellar cycles (half a vorn) after takeoff._ **

“We are out of fuel and out of options,” his voice rang clear through the briefing room. The frustration he felt betrayed only by his sensor panels which were held high and stiff on his back. “If you have another option then I am all audio, I can, however, assure you that I have exhausted every possible scenario.”

The atmosphere was heavy and permeated the room along with their palpable tension. “They have a right to know,” Ratchet replied quietly, his gaze flitting between the command staff before resting on Optimus. 

Venting a sigh, Optimus leant against the table, his helm bowing for a moment as he thought. “You’re absolutely sure about this plan, Prowl?” he asked finally, looking up at his second in command. 

Prowl gave his leader a small nod, not happy that he had no better solution. They had looked to him, trusted him to come up with a plan. They were simply out of options and out of time. He knew in his spark that none of them blamed him but he still felt like he had failed them all somehow. 

Optimus straightened resolutely, “Then it is decided. Ratchet, prepare the stasis pods for all crew members, Jazz following my announcement, I want you to help field any questions and concerns they may have. Prowl program the best route into Teletraan, also send it to me and I will pilot the ship when the time comes.”

Frowning at his leader, Prowl spoke up, “I must object to you piloting the ship, Prime, regulations state that the captain of a ve--”

“--It is not up for debate, Prowl,” Optimus stated firmly. 

Prowl closed his mouth, knowing when arguing with Optimus was futile. That had not been part of his plan nor was he about to let the Autobots potentially lose their last best hope for peace. 

“If there’s nothing else?” Optimus continued. “Prowl how long do we have?”

“Before we are irreversibly caught in the planet’s gravity, two cycles.”

“Then we have a cycle and a half before preparations must be completed. I want the crew in their stasis pods by then,” Optimus paused and looked at his command team. “Primus willing, we all make it through this but if I don’t get another chance to tell you, it has been my honour to serve with you all. Dismissed.”

****

“Thought I might find you here.” 

Prowl looked up as the black and white mech made his way across the observation deck. “Jazz, I thought you were busy keeping morale up following the announcement?”

“I was, most mechs are dealing on their own terms. The party we had last cycle helped but I wanted to make the rounds, see how everybody was doing before we go into our stasis pods this cycle. Not much else for me to do, except see how you were doing,” he paused expectantly, leaning on the bulkhead beside Prowl and folding his arms. “You didn’t come to the party.”

“No, I needed a clear processor in order to try to convince Prime to change his mind about piloting the ship.”

“How did that go?”

“Not well.”

Jazz grinned, “Typical Optimus, self-sacrificing to the last.”

“Irresponsible,” Prowl responded tersely. “Without him, we are lost, Jazz. I have calculated less than a 43% chance that the Autobots will be able to defeat Megatron and his Decepticon forces.” 

“Smokescreen mentioned you’d been more paranoid than usual about them. How do you know they’re even on our tail, mech?” 

Prowl met Jazz’s steady gaze, “I know,” he answered firmly. 

“That sure huh?” 

“Completely.” 

“So what are you going to do?” 

“It is already done…” 

Jazz stilled at Prowl’s cryptic response. “Did you…?”

Prowl quirked an optic ridge at the unfinished question. “Did I what?” 

“...Kill Prime?” 

“Jazz!” 

Jazz held up his hands in an apology. “I had to ask, mech, I’m not putting anything past you.” 

“It is irrelevant, the punishment, should I survive, will undoubtedly be the same.” 

Pinching his nasal bridge, Jazz shook his helm, “What did you do, Prowl?”

“I sedated him, by lacing his energon early this cycle and then called Ratchet to put him in his stasis chamber a groon ago.”

Jazz simply stared up at the ceiling. “And Ratchet agreed with this plan?” 

“After our briefing last cycle, I approached Ratchet about my concerns regarding leaving Optimus as the pilot of the ship while we likely plummet to our demise. The stasis pods give the highest chance of survival and the Autobots need their leader more than they need a strategist. A strategist can be replaced, a Prime cannot.” 

“Mech, you’re not just any strategist…” Jazz started only for Prowl to hold up his hand. 

“Smokescreen and Trailbreaker are more than adequate. Besides I am a more qualified pilot than Prime,” he gazed at his friend wistfully. “I do not wish to offline, Jazz but I don’t want the extinction of the Autobots more, not if I can do something to prevent it. Chances are 90% of the crew will survive, including Prime and when the Decepticons arrive, which they will, you will be better prepared having Prime fight alongside you than not. Ratchet has already submitted the report which overruled Prime’s final order so hopefully he will not decide to court martial his best medic and me posthumously.” Prowl finished and gave Jazz a small conceding smile, “It has not been my finest groon.”

“Mutiny, drugging Prime and taking command?” Jazz let out a short laugh. “It’s a very Prowl thing to do.”

“I do hope he does not judge me too harshly after the fact. I have done what I had to do with the Autobots’ best interests at spark.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jazz smiled sadly. He hesitated before placing a hand on Prowl’s arm. “Do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Stay alive?”

His sensor panels lowered slightly and he met Jazz’s visored optics. “I shall do my best.”

“I expect nothing less from you, my friend.”

****

It felt like a ghost ship as Prowl walked the corridors, doing one final check of each stasis pod and ensuring all non-essential equipment was powered down. He paused at each stasis pod, remembering the journey with each individual, how they had grown as a unit, as a family. He stayed by Bluestreak’s pod for several breems, placing a hand on the protective casing as he looked on the younger mech’s peaceful face. Raising the young mech since his rescue had been as challenging as it had been rewarding. “As long as you’re safe, I know you’ll be alright. If I don’t make it,” he hesitated his voice thick with emotion. “Please forgive me for breaking my promise. I am very proud of you, Bluestreak.” he swallowed hard, unable to bring himself to give voice to the parental love he felt in his spark and he tore himself away from the stasis pod.

As unprecedented as it had been, the decision to leave Cybertron to protect the All Spark and to get the majority of the Decepticons off Cybertron so Ultra Magnus had a fighting chance, had benefited them in ways they could not yet realise. Arriving at the bridge of the Ark, Prowl reluctantly sat in the captain’s chair. “Teletraan transfer all helm and ship control to the captain’s console.”

“Affirmative.” 

“How long until we exhaust our fuel?” 

“Four breems, Commander Prowl.” 

“Enough time to throw down or make an inspiring speech.”

Prowl whirled around at the amused drawl. “Jazz!” 

“Mech, don’t act surprised. I’m spec’ ops, you really think I don’t have a way to fool scanners into thinking I’m in stasis?” he grinned and sauntered across the bridge towards the helm control. “Besides, I decided to up your chances of staying alive.”

“How? By sacrificing yourself?” Prowl demanded hotly. 

“Nah, I tagged you with a mobile stasis unit that activates when you lose consciousness, which is very likely given that we’re hurling ourselves at a giant rock in space.”

“How did you--?”

Jazz just grinned and tapped the side of his arm. 

Prowl frowned and placed a hand where Jazz had rested his hand during their previous conversation. “You sneaky fragger.” 

Jazz barked a laugh and activated the chair restraints on the helm seat. “Teletraan, activate viewer, let’s see where we’re sleeping.”

“Affirmative.” 

Glaring at the back of the ops mech’s helm, Prowl relented. There was not enough time to argue. He activated his restraints and followed Jazz’s gaze as the mech whistled at the screen. 

“It’s very blue, is that H 2 O?” Jazz asked in awe. 

“Yes, 70% of the planet is covered in oceans but it was our best chance of a dry landing, ironically. The other planets are not suitable for our needs. The other two rocky planets that were feasible have conditions that get too inhospitable for even our species.”

“And this one? It seems very wet and hot?” Jazz mused, looking at the closer images Teletraan was providing of volcanic eruptions, extreme weather conditions on different hemispheres, tectonic disturbances. Cybertron, by comparison, was stable and composed almost entirely of metallic compounds and silica. Their blue giant star was also much more stable than the small yellow one of this star system. 

“This planet has already stabilised considerably in its current stage of development and it, plus the surrounding space events such as asteroids will become much more stable and easier to predict in approximately 1 million of its stellar cycles, only 12,000 vorns for us and hopefully by then Teletraan will have deemed it safe enough to deactivate the stasis pods.” 

“Okay…I trust you, Prowl, out of nine possible options, you picked this one to beach us on, so it’s got to be good.” Jazz replied, his optics bright behind his visor as the alien blue planet loomed on their screen. 

Prowl didn’t respond. It was the best choice in this star system given how volatile it was. The computer simulations had predicted it to be the most stable over time, despite its present tectonically active condition. It was the only viable choice.

“Fuel supply at 0.2%. Engines 2, 3 and 4 failing. Maneuvering thrusters still available,” Teletraan reported emotionless. 

“Starting atmospheric approach. This is going to get bumpy… brace yourself.” Prowl spoke out loud, more to himself than to Jazz. The ship began to shake violently as they entered the planet’s thick atmosphere. Consoles exploded and sparked as they were buffeted by the planet’s protective mesosphere. The engines cut out completely when they hit the stratosphere and the only sound filling the bridge was the roar of the atmospheric gases pummelling the shielding of the Ark. Prowl fought to maintain their altitude and to give them something of a crashed landing rather than just a crash. They broke through into the troposphere with a sharp jolt and a dusky orange land mass spread out beneath them as they passed into the dark side of the planet. The ship rocked and shook violently and the last thing Prowl heard as he urgently altered course away from a large ocean, was an exclaimed curse from Jazz as they dove towards the planet’s surface. 

****

The fireball streaked across the twilight sky, witnessed only by small mammalian creatures that scurried unaware below. With an explosive crash and a rumbling, it scoured the land, sending plumes of rock and dust up into the air before it, like a wave, before coming to a dead stop, embedded into the side of a large dormant volcano bordering the desert.

Silence fell once more across the land and the desert was still. The night was only marred by another white streak of light cutting across the purple sky just before dawn. It plunged over the horizon towards the distant ocean and disappeared from sight. 

There the Ark remained, half-covered by rock and debris, its nose puncturing the mountainside, still and quiet, undisturbed while the planet continued to turn.

****


	2. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Strange Affliction takes over the Ark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Groon - 1 hour - approx 80 minutes  
> Klik - second  
> Vorn - 83 Earth years  
> Breem - Approximately 8 minutes.  
> Cycle - 1 Cybertronian day - shorter than Earth day approximately 22 hours.  
> Deca-cycle - 3 weeks.  
> Stellar cycle - orbital cycle around a star  
> 1 AU - Astronomical unit = 93 million miles/150 million km  
> 1 Parsec - 3.26 light years
> 
> _Ship comms in italics_   
>  _//Private comm//_
> 
> For prowlweek 2020

**_18.63 Cybertronian Stellar Cycles after take off._ **

“Sir,” at the lack of response the blue and red mech leant over and tapped the top of his commander’s monitor. “Prowl, you’ve been poring over the star charts and the emissions reports for three cycles now. We’ve had no indication that the Decepticons are still on our tail and I know you’ll find a place for us to fuel, but you need to rest too.”

Prowl hummed and glanced up at his fellow Praxian standing on the other side of his desk. “Smokescreen, your faith in me is inspirational but I must continue my work. You are off duty so you do not need to wait for me to dismiss you, go…” he waved his hand absently, “...have fun.” 

Smokescreen huffed and flicked his sensor panels with a smirk. “Can’t say I didn’t try,” he headed for the door. “But do try to get some rest, Sir,” he added before leaving Prowl alone. 

Rest was the last thing on Prowl’s processor. They were rapidly running out of fuel and if he didn’t find a planet with suitable elements so that fuel could be formulated and processed into the hyperfuel energon that powered the Ark, they would be stranded in this strange galaxy, an easy target for the Decepticons. Despite having outgunned and outrun the Decepticons at their last encounter, almost six deca-cycles ago, Prowl knew that Megatron would not give up that easily. The data from their long-range scanners did not lie, the Decepticons were out there and they were tracking them. No, he could not rest, the 300 lives on the ship were depending on him and he was running out of time. 

_ “Commander Prowl, do you copy?” _ Perceptor’s excited voice burst over his comm. 

_ “I’m here, Perceptor, what is it?”  _

_ “I’ve found one! It’s a long shot but we can make it, bringing the data to you now, Sir.”  _

Prowl sat back in his chair. " _ I look forward to it,” _ he replied with simple relief.

****

On his way to meet Prime, Prowl was engrossed in Perceptor’s report. A star system that contained a number of suitable worlds composed of the elements they needed to formulate their fuel and their energon. Perceptor was running the simulations of hospitality for all the planets now but it looked promising and it was only two deca-cycles away if they burnt the last of their reserve fuel.

“Hi Prowl!” Gears waved animatedly before frowning and straightening. “I mean, Sir Prowl,” he grinned widely. “Nice cycle for a stroll in the park,” he stated as Prowl passed him in the corridor. 

Prowl stopped and looked back over his shoulder at the small mech. Park? What park? Also, Gears was never cheerful nor polite, not even to his superiors. “How odd,” he mused before continuing on his way lest he be late for his meeting. 

“Oh slag!” A red blur came speeding around the corner almost colliding with him before avoiding at the last klik and smashing into the wall instead with a crunch that made Prowl wince. 

“Oh now there’s a ‘bot I wanted to see,” Sideswipe drawled from his slouched position on the floor. He rubbed his helm and pouted. “Ow… ” 

“Sideswipe! What in Primus’ name are you doing?” Prowl demanded, crouching down to inspect the gash on the red mech’s helm. “You’re hurt.  _ Prowl to Ratchet. _ ”

“Kiss it better cop bot?” Sideswipe gave Prowl a lopsided grin and tried to lean up towards him. 

Planting a firm hand on the mech’s broad red chest plate to hold him where he was, Prowl gave him an incredulous glare as he conversed with Ratchet over the comm. “ _ I shall bring him to you now, he is acting… more strangely than usual, I think he’s damaged his processor. Yes, Ratchet, of course, I would be able to tell.” _

“Hey!” Sideswipe protested. “M’not stupid.”

“Nobody is saying you are. Now up you get,” Prowl stood and took hold of Sideswipe’s arm to help him. The mech pushed himself up but was unsteady on his feet and lost his balance. His larger size sent him and Prowl stumbling into the opposite bulkhead and Sideswipe grinned down at the smaller mech trying to keep him on his feet. 

“Are you a star?” he drawled. “Because I think I’m caught in your orbit.” 

Prowl blinked his optics twice before as gently as he could, pushed Sideswipe off him and supported the unsteady mech while trying to shepherd him to the medbay. “Have you been drinking? You know my feelings on that.”

“No,” Sideswipe retorted hotly. “Can’t a mech just be nice?” 

“There’s being nice, Sideswipe and then there’s coming on to your commander while on duty, I might add.” 

Sideswipe giggled. “So if I were off duty it would be cool right?” 

“Hardly.” 

The two mechs eventually made it to the medbay with Prowl constantly having to bat Sideswipe’s hands away from his sensor panels as the mech babbled incessantly. 

“Ratchet!” Prowl called out upon arriving. “He appears overcharged,” he explained when the medic appeared and helped him get Sideswipe to a berth. 

“I feel hot... “ Sideswipe whined with a frown, his hands pawing at his own plating. “Like I’m burning up… I don’t feel good, get off me…” Sideswipe began to struggle and pushed the two mechs off him. “I need to cool down…” he made a wobbly beeline for the escape hatch.

“Sideswipe no!” both Ratchet and Prowl called out, grabbing him before he could press the emergency escape hatch release. 

The red mech fought before Ratchet sedated him and he fell limp in their arms. “That is not what overcharged looks like,” Ratchet stated with concern. He whistled for the drone stretcher which came to hover beside them in a flash. Carefully they lifted the red mech onto it and it carried him smoothly to a berth. “I’m going to do a scan. He’s been overcharged before to the point of purging but trying to open an airlock into space? That’s unusual even for him.” 

Prowl frowned, looking down at the prone mech worriedly. “Keep me informed,” he received a querying ping from Optimus and grimaced. “I have to go.” 

****

“Sorry I’m late, Sir,” Prowl started as he arrived on the bridge. “Had an incident to deal with.” He tactfully avoided mentioning Sideswipe’s name when he noted that his twin was on duty on the bridge. Having one twin go off half clocked was bad enough. 

“No problem, Commander, my office?” Optimus responded, moving away from one of the computer consoles and subspacing his datapad. “I shall bring the energon.” 

Once in his office, Optimus gestured for Prowl to sit. “How is Bluestreak settling in?”

“Well, Sir, he’s made a few friends already and spends most of his time either on his duty shift or playing those gamepads with Bumblebee, we meet for hot energon at the end of every cycle and we talk, he seems happier than I have seen him since he first came to me on Cybertron.”

“Good, he’s a brave, mech, after all he’s been through, smart too. It’s a good thing you did, taking him in and you’ve done a good job raising him since Praxus.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the swell of pride Prowl felt at Prime’s words warmed his spark. He was immensely proud of Bluestreak and extremely fond of the young mech.

“So, I hear you have good news for me, Prowl?” 

Prowl handed his report over as he sat down. “Of a sort, Prime.”

Optimus hummed as he perused the datapad. “Hmm, looks like it’s what we need. What’s bothering you?”

“Well, if my calculations are correct and I sincerely hope this is one time they are not, we will run out of fuel before we arrive at this planet.”

“How long before?” 

“The outer rim of the star system, in the asteroid belt surrounding the larger planets.” 

“That is 40 AU from the planet.”

“Affirmative, Sir,” Prowl responded glumly. 

“Suggestions?” Optimus asked as he sipped his energon. 

“We start conserving energy now, I have drawn up some potential plans for fuel and power conservation. If we can follow these then we should arrive at the planet before we expend the last of our fuel but we may have problems landing.” 

Nodding, Optimus frowned a little. “Do what needs to be done, Prowl. When it’s official give me an appraisal of all systems we need to shut down.” 

“Yes, Prime.” Prowl stood and made to leave only for Optimus to clear his intake. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he gestured casually to the cube of energon he had made for Prowl sitting abandoned on his desk. “I know you haven’t been taking breaks,” he added, the tone of his voice letting Prowl know it wasn’t just a casual request.

“Sorry, Sir, I have been distracted,” Prowl relented, picking up the cube and swallowing its contents rapidly. “Between this and the Dece--”

“-- _ Ratchet to Prime.” _

_ “Go ahead, Ratchet.” _

_ “We have a problem, Sir. In the last groon I have had several mechs coming in or being brought in with overcharge like symptoms. It started when Prowl brought in Sideswipe. I can’t explain it, something has infected their systems and it looks like it’s spreading.”  _

Optimus and Prowl shared a look.  _ “Prowl is here now, is he infected?” _

_ “I can’t say without knowing how the others are getting infected. Without that I also can’t treat them. It’s concerning as some of the behaviour of the affected is becoming erratic. I have had to sedate a number of the crew already and confine others to their quarters.” _

_ “Ratchet I shall investigate immediately, please comm. me a list of the affected so far and I will follow up their whereabouts from there.”  _ Prowl finished his energon and gave Optimus a polite nod as he took his leave.

_ “Understood. I needn’t tell you that time is of the essence, Ratchet out.” _

****

Prowl made his way to the security office when he was suddenly struck by a powerful burning smell. Rounding the corridor he was pushed back by a wall of phosphorus flame and heat. He could hear desperate pleas for help and could make out the shapes of Praxians huddled together in fear, trapped behind the fire. He was filled with a rising dread and hopelessness as he couldn’t get past the flames and the ship started to spin out of control, throwing him back against the bulkhead. “NOOOO!” he hollered with despair, reaching out for the other passengers who screamed in anguish. 

A touch on his arm jolted him out of his terror and he stared with astonishment into Jazz’s face. 

“Mech, you alright?”

“There was…a... a fire… I was on the Peaceful Resolution… it was shot down, I watched some of my passengers burn, I was there again… I heard them..” Prowl stared in disbelief at the space where the fire had been. 

“There’s been no fire, mech…” Jazz reassured. “I heard you might need some help with an investigation?” he prompted gently, unused to seeing Prowl so shaken. 

“Yes… yes of course. There is an infection, we need to find the source. The security office will be able to track what the affected were doing before they started acting strangely and um…”

“Seeing things?” Jazz finished gently. 

Prowl met his solemn gaze and turned to sprint towards the security office. “Yes, I fear we do not have much time.” he urged as Jazz fell into step alongside him.

****

Ratchet swore again as Wheeljack struggled to keep Brawn and Cliffjumper from tearing each other’s plating off. “Ratch! Could use a hand here!” he shouted across the packed medbay, his helm fins flashing urgently. 

Marching across his medbay, narrowly avoiding colliding with Perceptor who had also been deputised as a medic given how many of the crew had been stricken with this outbreak, Ratchet grabbed Cliffjumper, wrapped an arm around the minibot’s waist and hoisted him onto a nearby berth. “Hold still, this won’t hurt a bit,” he reassured while administering a sedative to the struggling minibot. “His temperature is skyrocketing. We’re running out of time. “‘Aid!”

“Chief?”

“I need another cooling pad! Cliffjumper stat!” 

“On it!” 

Ratchet turned and injected the same sedative into Brawn who was being bodily restrained by Wheeljack. 

“What is it, Ratch?” Wheeljack asked worriedly as he placed Brawn on the next berth and placed a cooling pad over him.

“I don’t know, I’ve been unable to isolate it. It’s wreaking havoc with their circulatory systems, cooling systems and their processors. It attacks the processor first, makes them high, euphoric almost before their physical changes make them lose their damned minds trying to cool down or escape the itch.”

“Itch?” 

“Huffer described it as an all-over body itch just beneath his plating, he was found in the wash rack baths, half-drowned.” 

“Has anyone managed to injure themselves yet?” Wheeljack asked as Mirage entered the medbay laughing hysterically and carrying Hound on his back. 

“Not yet but only by the grace of Primus. Sideswipe nearly blew us out an airlock. I’ve had to lock other mechs in their quarters.”

“Hehehe, help… please…” Mirage laughed and dropped to his knees, his optics overly bright. His back was covered in energon.

“Oh, I spoke too soon,” Ratchet rushed to his side, gently helping extricate Hound from his back. “Primus!” he gasped in horror. 

“Not mine… found him… clawing at his spark chamber said it was inside him…” Mirage curled up on his side. “M’so hot… can’t think…” 

“Percy, Aid stretchers!” Ratchet barked urgently, immediately trying to stifle the flow of energon from the gaping hole in Hound’s chest. 

_ "Prowl to Ratchet.”  _

_ “You better have something good, we’ve got a medical emergency here!” _

_ “It’s the energon… Primus… it’s so warm in here...” _

_ “Keep it together, Prowler…”  _ Jazz could be heard in the background.

_ “Frag, is he infected too?” _ Ratchet demanded tersely _. " _

_ "He’s been hallucinating and handsy… so I would say so.”  _ Jazz responded. _ “Mech, it looks like the energon is tainted with something it’s reacting with our systems.” _

_ “The energon… get me a sample from the main tank. Then you need to get to the bridge and flush it from the dispensers on the ship. You need to do it fast.” _

_ “I will go…”  _ Prowl slurred before chuckling to himself _.  _

_ “You’re in no state--” _

_ “--No time… my battle processor will help…”  _

_ “We’ve no choice, Jazz, it needs to be done now before everybody is infected. Put out a ship-wide alert. I need that sample ASAP. Ratchet out.” _

“Frag, you sure you can do this, Prowl?” 

Prowl ran his fingers over Jazz’s chest and hummed into his plating from where he was draped over him. “Mmhmm… will make it… your plating is so smooth… and shiny…I wanna lick it...” he marvelled distractedly. 

“Mech you have the worst timing,” Jazz patted Prowl’s cheek sharply to get him to focus. “Go to the bridge, flush the energon. Got it?” 

Prowl nodded and smiled absently, his optics bright and darting. “Battle computer activating…” he gasped sharply and clutched his helm. “It will buy me... a few more kliks…” he uttered. “Issue the alert, get the sample, Jazz.” He pushed himself away from Jazz unsteadily and ran out into the corridor, sprinting as fast as he could to the bridge, avoiding mechs in the various stages of a really bad boost high, along the way. Jazz’s voice rang out through the ship, giving the order to not touch the energon. Prowl grimaced, his helm felt like it was being split in two and the ship’s bulkheads seemed to be moving of their own accord as he ran. Pushing through the disorientation, he continued running, stumbling along the way and scraping along the wall. 

“You have always been a disappointment.” 

Prowl whirled as he managed to get himself up and came face to face with his creator. “No… you’re not real…”

“Insolent scraplet…” the larger Praxian snarled and approached him intently with his hand raised. 

Prowl rapidly backed up until he hit something solid and turned his helm, offlining his optics and waiting for the pain of the strike. 

“Prowl?” 

Onlining his optics he stared at the empty corridor and turned. The bridge doors had opened when he'd slapped the door override release and Sunstreaker was watching him suspiciously, with Ironhide approaching him slowly. 

“It was just… nothing… I need the ship’s energon controls…” he staggered over to a computer console only for Ironhide to grab him and push him away from the console. 

“Can’t let you do that, Commander. We’ve already had to lock Prime in his office for trying to shoot a hole through the viewer… you don’t look so good either…” the red mech held out his hands placatingly. “I don’t want to fight you but I will put you on the deck.”

Prowl had no doubt Ironhide could, he had been Prime’s bodyguard originally after all. “I don’t have time for this. I need to flush the energon. It’s the energon that’s tainted… I don’t have much time.”

“Yeah, mechs have been doing stupid slag since you left… how do we know this isn’t you off your processor?” Sunstreaker demanded, looking a little beaten up himself. 

Prime must have put up a fight, Prowl thought to himself. “You have to trust me… my battle computer is active but the effects are too strong. Comm. Jazz or Ratchet they’ll confirm. Do it now!” he commanded urgently. 

“Keep an optic on him, ‘Hide…” Sunstreaker activated his comm. 

“Yes, ‘Hide… keep both on me, won’t you?” Prowl flipped out his enforcer baton and jabbed it into Ironhide’s side. The red mech stiffened and cried out as the electricity crackled over his frame as he crumpled to the floor. Prowl wasted no time in getting to the controls and activating the energon maintenance system.

Sunstreaker leapt cleanly over the guardrail to the upper bridge and drew his weapon on Prowl before the mech could initiate the flushing sequence. “Commander, move away from the console!” 

“I have to do this…” Prowl stayed perfectly still, his battle computer going into overdrive with the weapon pointed at him. 

“You flush that energon we die!” Sunstreaker yelled, keeping his weapon trained on Prowl. “You’re not in your right processor, Prowl. Sir please… don’t make me shoot you…”

“I don’t flush it… we die.” Prowl replied, his body felt a flash of heat and he tensed as his ventilations hitched. 

_ “Prowl I have the sample. Flush the system! Frag I hope you get this.”  _ Jazz burst into his comm suite.

“I’m sorry… you’ll have to shoot me,” he met Sunstreaker’s fierce glare before turning and reaching over the console. He cried out as a sharp pain pierced his side and he fell to his knees but continued typing in his command key, initiating the flush and locking the process, before being overcome with another wave of heat that seemed to reach into his helm and fry every sensor node in his helm.

“System purge initiated. Completion in two breems.” Teletraan voiced out, his monotonous voice filling the bridge. 

“Fraggit, Prowl!” Sunstreaker dropped his weapon and moved to his commander’s side, catching him as he slumped to the floor, holding his hands back from clawing at his frame and helm just as Optimus had done. He had no idea what was going on. Prime had locked down the bridge shortly after Prowl had left earlier that duty shift. He had felt strange pulses along his twin bond before that had fallen quiet and they had been cut off from the rest of the ship. “I really hope you knew what you were doing,” he looked down at Prowl whose face had screwed up in discomfort.

_ “Sunstreaker to Ratchet.” _

“You… shot me…” Prowl slurred.

_ “Bit busy right now, what is it?”  _

“...You should be promoted...”

_ “Prowl is out of his processor…and he’s been shot… we’re on the bridge, hurry.” _

****

“He’s awake! Ratchet come quick!” Bluestreak yelled excitedly.

A groan escaped Prowl’s lips before his optics onlined. He stared up at the orange hue of the medbay and grimaced. His side hurt, his helm hurt and he felt like he’d gone three rounds in a gladiator pit.

“It lives.”

Ratchet’s smirking face appeared in his field of vision beside Bluestreak’s elated one and they peered down at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was put through a smelter.” Prowl grimaced as Ratchet helped him sit up. “You managed to formulate a treatment?” he took hold of Bluestreak’s hand and patted it reassuringly.

“Yep and not a klik too soon. Jazz got his sample to me just as I had to start putting some mechs into medical stasis,” Ratchet explained. “Not going to lie, it nearly finished us. Good thing you purged it.”

“Not without some difficulty,” Prowl frowned.

Ratchet huffed a laugh, “About that, someone wants to speak to you.” he stepped to the side as a very contrite Sunstreaker approached his berth. 

“Sunstreaker?” Prowl canted his helm slightly at the downturned expression on Sunstreaker’s face.

“I’m sorry I shot you… I thought…” the mech scowled and folded his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologise, in fact, I am recommending Prime give you a commendation.”

“What?” his helm shot up in bewilderment and he stared at Prowl. “You could have died!”

“You were protecting the ship and the 300 sparks on board, you couldn’t have known whether I was infected or mutinous at that point, you did the right thing,” Prowl reassured firmly. “And I will hear nothing otherwise.”

Sunstreaker nodded mutely and glanced at his twin who clapped him on the back. “Told you it would be okay, Sunny. Commander Prowl is going to wish you had killed him after I remind him what he said to Jazz while he was infected,” he levelled a devilish grin at Prowl who shrank a little sheepishly into his berth padding. “Over the ship’s comm,” he added slyly. 

“Oh Primus,” Prowl muttered, burying his helm in his hand, much to the amusement of the others around his berth.

****


	3. Law/Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are crimes occurring onboard the Ark but is there a criminal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Groon - 1 hour - approx 80 minutes  
> Klik - second  
> Vorn - 83 Earth years  
> Breem - Approximately 8 minutes.  
> Cycle - 1 Cybertronian day - shorter than Earth day approximately 22 hours.  
> Deca-cycle - 3 weeks.  
> Stellar cycle - orbital cycle around a star  
> 1 AU - Astronomical unit = 93 million miles/150 million km  
> 1 Parsec - 3.26 light-years
> 
> _Ship comm speak in italics  
>  //Private comm//_
> 
> For Prowl week 2020

**_12.54 Cybertronian Stellar Cycles after take off._ **

“This is the third time this deca-cycle!” 

Huffer looked up disinterestedly at the yellow mech currently upending their quarters. He hadn’t completely minded the shared quarters arrangement at first but since Bumblebee had started losing his things, it had become… irritating. “What is it this time?” he asked, poking at his datapad, bored.

“My gamepad, I left it on the table but it’s gone. I never found my other data pad either. Are you sure you haven’t seen it?” Bumblebee asked, planting his hands on his hips. 

“I don’t care about your datapads, you leave everything everywhere, all the time, I’m not surprised you lose them,” Huffer responded without an iota of sympathy. 

“Aughh, you’re impossible, I don’t even know why I bother with you,” Bumblebee retorted with exasperation and marched out of their quarters. 

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Huffer muttered belligerently to an empty room.

****

“Frag frag frag,” sensor panels flicked with irritation as the mech looked in every possible location in the room, including under his desk. “Where the frag is it?” 

“You alright down there, mech?” Jazz perched on the edge of the desk and folded his arms, his visor looking at Smokescreen’s aft poking out from beneath his desk. 

Shuffling out and up from his undignified position on the floor, Smokescreen vented a large sigh. “It’s gone again.”

“What?” 

“The pools… the bets. It has all the credits on that mechs owed for various bets over the ship.”

“Are you a loan shark, mech?” Jazz asked, raising an orbital ridge.

“No! I don’t shoot anybody or maim anyone, I claim in other ways if they don’t want to give up credits,” he retorted defensively. “Everybody knows what they’re doing, they’re adults.”

“You know what will happen if Prowl finds out,” Jazz responded with disapproval. 

“Well, you better help me find it then,” Smokescreen retorted with a pointed look at Jazz. “Because this one is a lot more comprehensive than the other one and your name is on it too. I wonder what Prowl will have to say about that,” he smirked when Jazz scowled at him. 

“Fine. Where did you last see it?”

“On my desk, three breems ago. I went out to get my reports from my quarters, I came back and it, along with a cube of hot energon I had waiting for me, was gone.”

Jazz stood up slowly and frowned. “Wait, are you saying someone took it? Your office was locked?” 

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m saying. My office wasn’t locked,” he admitted sheepishly, “but some mech strolled in here and stole it and my energon.”

“Now that concerns me more than Prowl finding my name on your list,” Jazz looked around the room and activated the ultraviolet scan on his visor. “There’s no trace on the UV scanner but some slight infrared residual on your desk,” he peered down. “Some mech put their hand here earlier. Come on, let’s get to security, see what the cameras outside your office show us.” 

****

Perusing Perceptor’s latest report regarding the energon they had managed to formulate from their haul of hydrogen, helium, ammonia and methane from a gas giant’s atmosphere at their previous stop, Prowl noted the inclusion of liquid metallic hydrogen. Perceptor had reported that the state of the element in the planet’s atmosphere actually created a magnetic field but that their energon conversion process had been able to circumvent that, preventing it from becoming an issue. Humming to himself thoughtfully, Prowl decided to speak to Perceptor regarding the specific details of that process. Including magnetic elements into their energon could wreak untold havoc with a Cybertronian’s systems. Prowl looked up sharply as his door suddenly opened without a ping and Ironhide marched in. Before he could even greet the mech, he had started ranting and pacing angrily in front of his desk.

“I am going to tear off the helm of the mech who thinks it’s funny to keep taking them and moving them. This is mechs’ lives we’re dealing with. What if we had to crash land somewhere and half the weapons’ components were missing?”

Putting the energon report to one side, Prowl tried to placate the angry mech, “Ironhide please calm down, I have no actual idea what you’re talking about.” 

“My weapons, Prowl in the armoury. Some of them keep going missing, I go to look and when I go back several groons later they’re back. I’m not crazy, someone keeps taking them. How can I keep them maintained if some bot is taking and potentially using them somewhere on the ship?”

“I’ve had no alerts,” Prowl replied simply.

“Shooting range? They could hack Teletraan for all I know! Something weird is happening on this ship.” 

Prowl opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, Bumblebee entered looking like he was ready to shoot someone. “Can I assist you?”

“Yes, I want to report a theft. It’s too much of a coincidence that several of my datapads and my games pads have gone missing for me to have lost every single one, we have a finite supply of pads and my personal ones are all gone.” 

Ironhide gestured to Bumblebee emphatically while staring at Prowl. “See!”

“That is unusual, are you sure you haven’t misplaced them?”

Bumblebee glowered and folded his arms, “All eight of them, Prowl?” he retorted. “If I was that much of a glitch I would never have passed my evals to join the military.” 

“Fair point,” Prowl conceded with a slight frown. “I’m not sure what you exp--”

“--Prowl!”

“Oh Primus, what is it now?” he turned, exclaiming with growing exasperation. 

Jazz met his questioning glare as he marched into Prowl’s office, followed by a deeply concerned Smokescreen. “We have a problem on this ship, mech.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Ironhide replied, feeling validated. 

The office comm pinged and he vented a sigh as he looked up to the ceiling. “ _ I am a little busy, can it wait?”  _ he snapped aloud. 

_ “I suppose it can,”  _ Optimus’ voice rumbled through the comm apologetically and everyone in Prowl’s office grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, gazes looking anywhere but at Prowl. _ “I simply wanted to report an anomaly in our stores.”  _

_ “I ah yes, Prime, my apologies, there seem to be a few anomalies on this ship. I will initiate an investigation immediately.”  _

Optimus’ smile could be heard through the comm. _ “I wouldn’t want to impose if you’re busy. I can get Red--” _

_ “--I will handle it, Sir, Prowl out.” _

“Nice save,” Jazz grinned, ignoring Prowl’s icy glower.

Prowl, pulled out a stack of blank datapads and placed them on his desk. He laced his fingers in front of him and pinned each of them with a cool gaze. “Each of you, pick up a datapad, sit down and write me a detailed report on these issues. Nobody leaves here until I know exactly what is going on,” he commanded through a series of unhappy murmurs.

****

With all the reports collated of random objects going missing and the shadow on the security feed outside Smokescreen’s office, Prowl had reached an unsettling conclusion. 

“We have an intruder.”

The command team were startled at the simple statement and immediately began questioning how that was possible. 

“I don’t know,” Prowl tried to answer all of the questions at once without much success. 

“How in the slag could anyone have boarded us?” Ironhide was demanding hotly.

“We’re in the middle of space, surely that’s not possible unless it’s not a life that we recognise,” Red Alert surmised with a look of growing horror on his faceplates. 

“Is it ‘con? Could it be from the last attack?” Jazz was asking, glancing between Prowl and Prime expectantly.

Ratchet was the only one who seemed to not consider the revelation as some sort of threat, “Some of our medical stores are gone too so they could be injured, we need to be sure.”

“Enough!” Optimus boomed, silencing the room. “Prowl, can you find them?”

“I believe so, Sir and I believe it is a Cybertronian based on the depletion in our energon stores. Every mech leaves a trace.”

“Alright, everyone give Prowl full cooperation in his investigation. Keep me informed, dismissed.”

****

“What is the plan?” Red Alert asked insistently. “Aren’t you going to tell any of us? Do you trust us so little?” 

Prowl put a finger to his lips as he met Red Alert’s gaze. 

“Who on Cybertron do you think is listening?” he looked around them as Prowl shifted the cameras to focus on a cube of energon, carefully placed on a trigger. “I thought I was the one who was supposedly paranoid?” He looked to Jazz, who was stood in the corner quietly, for help but the visored mech made no acknowledgement and simply continued to watch Prowl work. 

“Next room,” Prowl stated finally. “We don’t have enough triggers,” he looked at Jazz.

“Mirage can be in one of the rooms,” Jazz responded evenly. 

“What?” Red Alert’s helm sparked with frustration. “What room, what are you doing, wait are you baiting whatever it is here? Am I bait?” he asked, almost frantic.

“No, you’re security,” Prowl pointed out firmly. “Come with me. Jazz, I trust you have everything in hand?”

“You can count on me, mech.”

Red Alert walked alongside Prowl, wringing his hands nervously. “Why won’t you tell me anything? I was appointed to this position by Prime himself, if you have a problem with trusting me you can take it up with him but I must be appraised in whatever plan you’re concocting for the security of this ship!” 

“It’s not about trust, Red Alert,” he kept his voice even and neutral. “I have reason to believe that our stowaway is moving through the ship’s vents. Given that there was no security footage outside the armoury, but there was a shadow outside Smokescreen’s office. They seem to have targeted rooms that are tied to the same ventilation unit. I didn’t want to discuss it in Bumblebee’s quarters in case--”

Realisation crept over Red Alert’s faceplates, “--In case they were listening,” he finished. 

“Precisely,” Prowl stopped outside the monitoring station. “I need you to monitor every trap I have set. Yours is the most important job if we are to catch this culprit.”

“I… of course,” the red and white mech replied more calmly than before. 

“And Red,” Prowl pinned the taller mech with a steady regard. “Prime doesn’t appoint anyone without my recommendation,” he gave the mech a small smile before turning on his heel and heading to Smokescreen’s office. There was another illegal matter he needed to deal with.

****

“I know what you’re going to say,” Smokescreen held up his hand the klik Prowl entered his office. “Can you just throw me in the brig after we’ve caught this mech?”

“You’re so sure that I will?”

Giving Prowl a pointed look, Smokescreen huffed, “You threatened to last time and I saw the look on your face when Jazz told you what it was that I’d had taken.”

“I feel like you get some sort of gratification out of breaking the rules, my rules in particular,” Prowl sat in the chair opposite Smokescreen. 

“In my defence,” Smokescreen started. “I didn’t think I would get caught.” He sat back and eyed Prowl with incredulity. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for you anyway. It’s not harming anyone.” 

“You are a commanding officer, Smokescreen,” Prowl protested. “You have authority that subordinate mechs may be intimidated by. You are also the only trained psychologist on this ship,” 

“Not trained,” Smokescreen corrected. “Never finished due to the war so technically not qualified.”

“The only one even closely qualified enough to be the ship’s apparent counsellor,” Prowl continued with rapidly waning patience. He pinched his nasal bridge and flexed his sensor panels out for a klik before continuing. “My point is, you have a position of responsibility on this ship that did not exist on Cybertron. You might not think it’s doing any harm but when I was in Praxus, when I was--”

“--Yes yes an enforcer I know,” Smokescreen interjected sullenly.

“When I was an enforcer, the amount of mechs I met who had been taken advantage of or manipulated simply by intimidation was astonishing. You have more power than you realise and if you don’t act responsibly I will have to do something far worse than throw you in the brig. That will serve no good to anybody.” 

“Worse than being cooped up on my own for a deca-cycle?” Smokescreen laughed. “Prowl you sound like you’re going to throw me out of an airlock or something,” he stilled when he caught Prowl’s emotionless, unwavering gaze and swallowed, suddenly apprehensive. “You wouldn’t…?”

Rolling his optics despite himself, Prowl leant forward. “Worse,” he replied cryptically. 

“What’s worse than being spaced?” Smokescreen’s voice became a little shrill as Prowl’s expression became unreadable. 

“For a mech that has prided himself on standing on his own two feet, overcoming addictions of his past and becoming a respected and upstanding member of the Autobots and one of Prime’s trusted?” Prowl smirked humourlessly and folded his arms as he sat back. “You know very well, Smokescreen, what would be worse.”

Smokescreen felt his spark clench a little. “You’re serious?” he asked quietly. “Even after knowing how hard I worked?”

“Even after.”

“That’s cold, Prowl.”

“I have been called worse,” the black and white mech acknowledged. “So will you think about it in future?”

“Maybe…”

“Smokescreen!”

“I didn’t say no. I do have one condition though.”

“Name it.”

“You come for your regular psych evals. Every  _ single _ one, no more I can’t this cycle Smokescreen, no more going against regulations for _ you _ ,” he added with emphasis.

Prowl glowered at the blue and red mech. 

“And if you don’t, I can take it to Prime, you know,” he added smugly.

“I am aware of the regulations, Smokescreen.”

“So we’re agreed then?” he asked cheerfully. “I don’t gamble, you don’t demote me and I get to see you every third deca-cycle for your  _ compulsory _ psych evals and I don’t tell Prime you’ve missed every single scheduled mandatory appointment since you were promoted to second in command.”

“How did you…?”

Smokescreen grinned widely and held his hands open in a casual shrug. “I’m a gambling mech, Prowl, I know what I have to know to get the result I want.” 

“You are a piece of--”

_ “--Prowl, your lure worked. We’ve got a hit, dispensary.” _

Red Alert’s voice cut Prowl off and the mech scowled at Smokescreen who looked like the cybercat had gotten into the sweetened energon.

“We will discuss this later.”

“Oh I have no doubt,” Smokescreen grinned unabashed as Prowl quickly exited his office.

****

“ The dispensary,” Jazz pointed towards the door as he whispered. “Mirage is in there, he’s cloaked. Want him to grab the mech?” 

“No, I will confront them.”

“Prowl, they could be armed,” Jazz protested.

“Then I trust you will have my back and be prepared,” he countered coolly. “Besides, if he were truly dangerous with how long we have already been in space and how long he has likely been on the ship given our stores records, I believe we would know that by now.” 

Jazz relented reluctantly and waited for Prowl’s nod to palm the door release. The doors swished open easily and Prowl stepped inside the dimly lit stores. A scrambling of feet and a clatter of crates could be heard and Prowl held up his hands, palms forward to show he was unarmed. 

“We know you are here. We know you have been moving through the ship undetected, come out and no harm shall come to you,” his voice was calm and clear through the large warehouse.  _ //”Mirage cover the vent exit.”// _

_ //”Done.”//  _ came the succinct reply.  _ //”He is in the aft left corner of the warehouse, hiding behind the medical energon barrels and the replacement particle-combustion cannons.”// _

Prowl felt a curl of disquiet, that was an explosive combination if the mech decided to be violent and was armed in any way. “I am unarmed,” he called out to heavy silence. 

“There is nowhere else for you to go and you are out-numbered,” he didn’t want the mech to feel desperate but the stalemate could not continue. “You have my assurance you will not be harmed,” he repeated hopefully. 

“Promise?” a shaky, uncertain and distinctly young sounding voice replied and Prowl shared a look of confusion with Jazz.

“I know that voice,” Jazz murmured ever so softly, receiving a look of agreement from Prowl. 

“Yes. Please come out.” 

“Okay… don’t be mad…” 

“Mad?” Prowl’s frown deepened yet morphed into shock when the stowaway revealed himself timidly. 

“Bluestreak!”

Jazz flinched a little at Prowl’s angry exclamation. “Oh frag,” he muttered.  _ //“Mech, go easy on him yeah?”// _ he watched tensely as Prowl strode crisply over to the smaller Praxian his sensor panels high on his back. When Prowl stopped in front of the grey and red mech, Jazz found himself holding his intakes. Then, after a klik’s hesitation Prowl tugged the younger mech into a tight embrace and Jazz felt all tension bleed from his frame.

****

Optimus Prime studied the young Praxian sat nervously beside Prowl. “So this was our stowaway hm?” he asked rhetorically. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Bluestreak. I am surprised to find you on my ship.”

“I’m sorry, Prime,” the grey mech hung his helm, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Prowl?” The Prime looked to his second expectantly for an explanation. 

“Sir, after fostering Bluestreak following his rescue from the ruins of Praxus, he was still a youngling. He upgraded shortly afterwards but he is still too young for active service, I did not want him to be harmed and so when we were bound to leave Cybertron, I felt it too perilous and I left him in the care of another foster, a good friend of mine whom he knows well,” he added pointedly glancing at the younger mech. 

“You didn’t adopt him?” Optimus was curious as to the motivation behind Prowl’s decision to foster the youngling. 

“I am military, Sir and high ranking, therefore a target, there was no guarantee of my survival, I did not want him to become a target as well and be used as a tool against me and I felt it cruel to adopt him only for him to potentially lose his family all over again.”

“Mmm, well it seems he has adopted you in spite of your best efforts,” Optimus mused with a fond smile. “Bluestreak, what compelled you to stow away on this ship, knowing that it was likely a one-way journey?” his tone was gentle as he leant forward on his desk. 

Bluestreak’s optics flitted between Prowl and Prime. “I didn’t want to be left alone again. Streetstar is nice but he was always working and Prowl promised…” he trailed off when Prowl’s sensor panels flicked sharply. 

“Well what’s done is done,” Optimus concluded. “I must say, it is commendable you went hidden for twelve stellar-cycles. That takes some skill. Skills that will be an asset to the Autobots. Therefore, I have decided you will have to be trained to defend yourself and given some light duties, understood?” 

“Yes, Prime, I really want to be useful, I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”

“You will return everything you stole and apologise.”

Bluestreak nodded keenly. 

“Prowl has requested you be given separate quarters near to his own, you are fortunate that Huffer was amenable to change,” Prime continued with vague amusement. “You will be sharing with Bumblebee, I trust you are already familiar with the location.” 

“Yes Sir,” Bluestreak grinned shyly.

“You are both dismissed. Stay out of trouble and welcome to the Autobots, Bluestreak.”

Prowl looked somewhat relieved as he followed a buoyant Bluestreak from the office until Optimus’ deep timbre called him back. “Yes, Prime?”

“I think congratulations are in order.”

“Sir?”

Optimus smiled behind his mask, his optics bright. “You just became a parent.”

Prowl’s sensor panels twitched and he nodded fully cognizant of the responsibilities now placed on his shoulders. “Yes, Sir.”

****


	4. Sensory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saudade - the “the love that remains” after someone is gone. It’s the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It describes a deep nostalgic longing. It brings sad and happy feelings all at once;  
> Sadness from missing something loved.  
> Happiness for having experienced the love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Groon - 1 hour - approx 80 minutes  
> Klik - second  
> Vorn - 83 Earth years  
> Breem - Approximately 8 minutes.  
> Cycle - 1 Cybertronian day - shorter than Earth day approximately 22 hours.  
> Deca-cycle - 3 weeks.  
> Stellar cycle - orbital cycle around a star  
> 1 AU - Astronomical unit = 93 million miles/150 million km  
> 1 Parsec - 3.26 light-years
> 
> _Ship comm speak in italics  
>  //Private comm//_

**_8.2 Cybertronian Stellar Cycles after take off._ **

The explosion rocked the ship violently. 

_ “Critical alert!” _ Optimus Prime’s voice rang out through the ship.  _ “To your duty stations,” _ he commanded as the ship was rocked by another explosion.

“Damage report!” Prime boomed across the bridge. 

“We’ve lost engines 2 and 4!” Wheeljack hollered above the chaos. 

“They’re coming around for another attack!” Trailbreaker barked urgently. 

_ “Prowl any klik now would be great.” _

_ “Ready, Sir, targeting!” _

“Prime, they’re targeting the primary starfield missile!” Wheeljack yelled across the bridge abruptly.

Optimus shot out of his seat,  _ “Prowl get out of there now!”  _ The Ark jolted from the impact sending Optimus stumbling to the side rail.  _ “Prowl?! _ ”

Everyone on the bridge waited with frozen intakes as several flashes of light shot out from the Ark. “Teletraan, report.”

“Missiles away. Guiding. Six kliks to target, 5, 4....”

“He did it,” Sideswipe uttered from the helm. 

“Sir, my readings are showing the Primary Starfield Control, well it’s…it’s not showing,” he looked towards his leader, his helm fins flashing erratically with concern. 

Prime swore subtly behind his mask, “Teletraan, condition of the PSC centre?”

“Primary starfield missile launch control has been destroyed. The hull breached and was immediately sealed.”

“Survivors?”

“Unknown at this time.”

Optimus nodded and sat in his chair slowly, gripping the arms tightly, there would be time for grief. “Staggered explosion on the missiles. Three kliks between each.”

“Acknowledged.”

Several bright flashes filled the viewer causing many of the ‘bots to shield their optics. The formidable Decepticon cruiser was for a moment whited out of existence. When the image adjusted the cruiser could be seen askew from its previous position with explosions raging along its hull. Cheers erupted across the bridge. 

“Get us out of here, Sideswipe,” Optimus commanded. “Hyperspeed.”

“Prime, the engines are damaged if we go to hyperspeed now, we might explode,” Wheeljack warned. 

“‘Jack, we stick around for Megatron to recover, we’re definitely going to explode. Hyperspeed now.”

“Yes, Prime.”

The ship accelerated away from the drifting Decepticon ship and the viewer deactivated. 

_ “Prime to Ratchet, get to starfield control immediately, medical emergency.” _

_ “Understood, Prime.” _

“Ironhide, Sideswipe, with me, they’re going to need a hand down there.”

****

“This is Primus' damned mess!” Ratchet could be heard yelling halfway down the corridor. “Get that bulkhead out of my face!” 

Optimus jogged up and did not need to direct Ironhide and Sideswipe before they jumped in to help clear the debris from the control room entrance. “Primus,” he breathed at the devastation. “It was a direct strike… life signs?” he looked to his Chief medical officer hopefully.

“Faint but there.” 

“Prime we need your help in here,” Ironhide called out. 

Jazz jogged up with Sunstreaker. “Heard about the hit, who’ve we got trapped in there?” 

“Prowl,” Ratchet answered tersely, monitoring Prowl’s vitals as best he could from the doorway. 

“We’ve got him, I think I can move him,” Optimus’ deep tenor reverberated out of the room. 

Ratchet sub spaced his scanner, “Wait, I’m coming in.”

Jazz and Sunstreaker waited pensively outside the half-destroyed room. The explosion had ripped through the control centre and shredded the corridor, partially exposing the starfield control to space. The only thing protecting them from the vacuum of space was a thin, invisible space shield that covered the entire ship.

Sunstreaker’s startled whistle of shock got Jazz’s attention. He could only stare in disbelief at the mangled mess in Prime’s arms that had once been his friend and Autobot second in command. “How’d any mech survive that?” Sunstreaker muttered to his twin who came to stand beside him.

Jazz glanced at them a frown furrowing his brow, “If any bot can, Prowl can.”

****

Optimus stood at the window in his office watching at the streaks of light. It was a common misconception that they were stars but being in hyperspeed they were in fact excited electrons bombarding their shielding. It still made for a distracting viewing. Normally he would be working through a stack of reports from the ship’s duty heads and from Prowl. He turned and looked at the pile of datapads on his desk. The pile he usually got from Prowl was missing and Optimus had been unable to concentrate on the others as a result. He was unsettled and paced his office in spite of himself. It would accomplish nothing, he knew that but what else could he do? _//_ _ “Ratchet, any news?”// _

_ //”Prime, for the fourth time today, his condition remains unchanged.”//  _ Ratchet’s tone was sympathetic as he continued.  _ //”You’ll be the first I inform if that changes.// _

_ //”Understood, my apologies for disturbing you.”// _ Optimus replied contritely, his optics dim as he cut the private channel. His door pinged and he vented a sigh. “Come.”

“Prime, thought I’d come see how you were doing,” strolling into the office, Jazz quickly made himself comfortable in the guest chair, his visor trained on Optimus. “Can’t focus either, huh?” he asked gently, glancing at the stack of datapads on Prime’s desk. 

Optimus finally brought himself to sit and leant on his desk, his hands clasped before him. “I just feel--”

“--Helpless?”

Giving Jazz a small nod, Optimus shook his helm. “I keep comming Ratchet to ask him for an update. At some point he’s going to block my comms,” he gestured, sitting back in his chair in frustration. “I just feel like I should be doing something, like I should be there.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know!” Optimus rubbed a helm finial frustratedly. “I’ve lost mechs before, Jazz. We’re at war, I understand the consequences but on this ship after almost a quarter of a vorn in space, I felt somehow we’d--”

“Outran it?” Jazz queried sadly.

“Risen above it. Like the further away we got, the more our lives could retain some level of normalcy on this ship.” In a rare display of emotion, Optimus let his mask slide back and he leant back in his chair, taking a deep intake. “Prowl with all his routines and regulations just made that adjustment easier. I didn’t realise that until it stopped.”

Humming in solidarity, Jazz pursed his lips in thought. “I feel you, Optimus. I managed to finish all my reports which to anyone listening would sound like a good thing but I felt dissatisfied somehow. It was too easy.”

“Easy?” Optimus queried with bemusement. “Jazz your reports are usually late and I know you do it deliberately.”

“Yes but when I’m running late, Prowl comes into my office and nags me to be responsible and then I get to give him an energon cube and make him tell me about his cycle. He wouldn’t leave his office until the end of his duty shift or beyond otherwise. So I started at the same time I always do and this time…”

“Prowl didn’t come in to make sure you got them finished,” Optimus finished wistfully. 

“Exactly! So I finished them. Once I realised I’d finished on time, I thought about how Prowl would be pleased and then I just felt like slag.” Jazz scowled and picked up an energon goody that Optimus kept in a small bowl on his desk. “Played my keytar last cycle in my office and didn’t get an angry comm telling me to cut it out or I would be thrown out the nearest airlock. All those little things he did that annoyed me at meetings too, all those questions and clarifications he had, the last meeting went so smoothly and frag it,” he snapped and shot up from the chair, pacing over to the window. 

Optimus waited patiently for his officer and friend to continue. 

“I miss him, Prime and I’m really worried no… I’m scared that I’ll have to keep on missing him.” 

Optimus felt Jazz’s spark ache in his words, it mirrored the pain he felt in his own. Getting up he joined Jazz at the window and placed a comforting hand on the smaller mech’s shoulder. “He’s a strong mech.”

“A stubborn aft.”

“Precisely,” Optimus smiled softly. “He’ll make it through this.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Jazz looked up at Optimus and his visor dimmed when his leader could give him no answer to that question. 

They both looked out of the window, the question hanging heavy in the air. They would carry on as they had to and carry the void with them. All they had in that moment was hope. It did not feel like enough.

****

_ //“I’m going to beat you for sure this time, Sunny!”// _ Sideswipe heckled as he skidded around the corner and accelerated into the long stretch of corridor, ignoring mechs that leapt out of his way. 

A golden blur raced after him, engine revving angrily as Sunstreaker chased his brother down the corridor.  _ //”That’s what you think, smart aft.”// _ he transformed as they reached the next corner and leapt from the bulkhead onto his brother’s roof using him like a slingshot as he leapt off and transformed mid-air landing on all four wheels and screeching ahead of his twin.

_ //”Hey that’s cheating!”// _

_ //”You’re only sore because you didn’t think of it first. You’re a bad loser, Sides’’// _

_ //”Not a loser.”// _ Sideswipe swerved around an astonished Perceptor, who squeaked in alarm and launched himself bodily into Sunstreaker’s side. Both of them transformed and wrestled as they tumbled into the rec’ room. Sunstreaker landed on top and pinned his brother with a triumphant smirk. 

“I win,” he declared, playfully kissing Sideswipe’s pout. 

“What’s the score ‘Smokescreen?” he called out to their audience. 

“Well, given that last time Prowl was hot on your afts, you were slower this time by 4 kliks,” Smokescreen shrugged. “Sorry guys, no prize for you.” 

Sideswipe shoved Sunstreaker off him as they both got up to stand. “Yeah, it wasn’t half as satisfying as when he’s chasing us,” he admitted somewhat dejectedly. 

“Never thought I’d feel like breaking the rules was less fun without Prowl to ride our afts about it,” Sunstreaker agreed glumly. His victory felt hollow now and he looked at Smokescreen who’s sensor panels had drooped on his back as he sat back down next to Trailbreaker who was simply swirling his energon cube absently. 

“Shall I get our energon?” Sideswipe touched his brother’s arm to get his attention. 

Shaking his helm, Sunstreaker pulled a face halfway between a scowl and a pout. “No, let’s go.”

“Where?” 

“Anywhere but here.”

****

He wiggled carefully through the shaft. He had to be quiet here, Ratchet had nearly discovered him the last time he made a sound. He knew it was a risk but he had to come and this was the first time he had seen the CMO leave the medbay in five cycles since the explosion. He peered through the vent and ever so gently pried it open. His sensor panels scraped on the smooth metal and he froze, optics bright but the only sound in the medbay was the beeping of Prowl’s monitors. 

Dropping to the ground after a soft ex-vent of air, Bluestreak padded silently over to the prone black and white mech on the berth. He gently tugged the blanket up a little higher over Prowl’s frame and fidgeted with the corner of the material as he looked down at Prowl’s seemingly peaceful faceplates. 

Bluestreak couldn’t count all the wires and machines he was hooked up to and he didn’t want to think about it. Seeing Prowl like this, so badly hurt was frightening enough. “You’ve always been indestructible you know… to me,” he whispered, his intake hitching slightly. “When I was younger, I used to run up to the enforcers in the city. I thought they were so brave and strong and my carrier would get all embarrassed because I would want them to hold my hand and pick me up.” 

Looking around the medbay, Bluestreak paused for a klik as his hand trembled slightly where it rested on the blanket. “So when I first met you, I saw your colours, I knew I would be safe like I felt whenever those enforcer mechs obliged a youngling’s whim,” Bluestreak sniffed and wiped his face roughly as coolant slipped over his cheek. “I wish I could tell you that I’m here, let you know how much I miss you,” he laughed softly. “You’re going to be so mad when you find me, I just know it but I had to come. My life, I owe a debt I can never repay but I thought maybe after what happened, you might feel scared inside so I wanted to come see you and just be here, so you’re not alone whatever happens. I was so scared on my own, trapped in that building during the attack. Being here, on this ship, knowing that you’re close by, even though you don’t know I’m here, I feel less alone, less afraid and I wanted to help you feel that too.”

Reaching under the blanket, Bluestreak felt for Prowl’s hand and took hold of it, squeezing it tightly with his own. “You look better than the last cycle, that’s good, you’re getting stronger. Maybe I helped you feel less afraid, I don’t know but being here, I feel less afraid so I’m going to stay a little while. I can’t stay long because that medic will find me and I can’t bear the thought of getting into trouble when you’re not around to have my back,” he smiled to himself. “Even when you’re scolding me, I always knew you had my back and so I want you to know, Prowl… I have your back just…” he held onto the limp hand even tighter. “Don’t let go… not yet,” he gazed at Prowl, bowing his helm as he let himself succumb a little to the ache that threatened to consume his spark. “It sounds selfish, I know I’m supposed to be a grown mech now…I’m sorry but I'm not ready. Please, Prowl, don’t let go.”


	5. Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is commanding and then there is leading.

**_5 Cybertronian Stellar Cycles after take off._ **

“Prowl what the frag is happening?” Wheeljack jogged to catch up to the second in command and fell into step beside him as they headed to the bridge.

“I don’t know, I got the summons to the bridge and then the alarms went off.”

“Are we in a fight?” I thought you and Percy both said you couldn’t track the cons on the aft sensors since we left Cybertron. How could they have caught up to us so fast? We were sucked into a slagging wormhole, and dropped in the middle of a distant galaxy in the middle of who knows which galaxy cluster!” 

“Wheeljack, I know as much as you,” Prowl responded curtly. 

The lift doors opened and they stepped out into chaos on the bridge.

“Report!” Prowl barked as he went to stand beside his Prime. 

“Hostiles coming in from starboard and stern,” Jazz answered. “It’s them alright,” he added grimly. 

Prime clenched his fists and moved closer to the viewer. “Teletraan arm weapons. Sideswipe, look for a place to hide the ship if we can’t outrun them.” 

“We need to stand and fight, Prime!” Ironhide interjected fiercely. “They’re going to track us to the ends of the Universe if we keep running.” 

“Sir, Ironhide has a point,” Prowl declared, much to Ironhide’s visible surprise. 

“We are out-gunned, Prowl,” Optimus turned to regard his SIC quizzically. 

“I have been working on a plan based on our previous engagement.”

“Let’s have it.”

“INCOMING!” Jazz yelled, cutting Prowl off. 

The ship shook with the first blast and spun out of trajectory with the second, sending Prime and Prowl to the deck as part of the bridge hull breached. 

“Hull breach,” Teletraan reported tonelessly. “Hull breach sealed.”

“Prime?” Prowl picked himself up and searched among the rubble littering the bridge. “Optimus!” He crouched down beside his Prime and scanned him. “He’s hurt, get Ratchet up here,” he ordered. “Jazz we’ve lost viewer, where are they?”

“Port bow, coming around for another attack.” 

Prowl gripped the deck rail as the ship shook again. “Arm the lasers and the cannons and prep the Overshock!” he commanded urgently to a chorus of ‘yes Sirs’ around the bridge. “Sideswipe, on my mark get us the pit out of here.”

“No can do,” the red mech answered. “Engines won’t engage full hyperspeed, they got smacked with that last hit.

“What can you give me?”

“A few kliks at most, not even enough to get us out of this star system.” 

“Coming close, Prowl, any closer they can board us,” Jazz warned, concern lacing his voice. 

“Recommendation?” Prowl asked Sideswipe who was manning the helm with a frown of concentration. 

“There was a nebula just a few parsecs to our aft, at the edge of the system it’s electrically active and there’s, I think, a neutron star at the centre, but it’ll hide us from their sensors. I can get us there with a burst of hyperspeed from engine one in three breems, it might buy us sometime.”

“Lay in a course.”

Wheeljack turned sharply at that. “Prowl the gravitational forces alone could rip us apart. Without our shields we--” 

“You better make sure the shields hold then.”

“Prowl they’re releasing grapplers!” Jazz hollered across the bridge. 

“Fire everything!” Prowl growled out. “Now Sideswipe! Punch it!” 

The ship jolted and rocked sharply as it accelerated away from the explosions erupting throughout the Nemesis. 

“Teletraan condition of the Nemesis?”

“40% damage to their forward hull, shields at 55%, they are not currently pursuing, Commander Prowl but they will be sufficiently repaired in approximately fourteen breems.” 

Sinking into the captain’s chair, Prowl vented a sigh. He noticed Ratchet crouched beside their fallen leader for the first time. “How is he?”

“He got a bad knock to the helm. He’s going to be out for a while,” Ratchet informed him, carefully transferring the Prime to the hover stretcher with Sideswipe’s and Ironhide’s help.

Not having Prime leading them right now, caused Prowl’s spark to pulse faster with worry but his thoughts focused on the situation at hand as the ship came to an abrupt stop. “Status?”

“We’re inside the nebula, Sir,” Sideswipe reported first.

Wheeljack scowled as he turned to meet Prowl’s gaze. “Engines are going to take some time to repair but our shields will be stripped by the star’s radiation before then.” 

“How long?”

“We’ll lose shields in about a cycle and a half.” 

“Then that’s how long you have to fix the engines.”

“Prowl, I would love to bend the laws physics for you but--”

“--Wheeljack, either you give us hyperspeed before we cook in here or we’re dead,” Prowl maintained optic contact with the engineer. 

Wheeljack shrank a little and nodded. “I’ll get to the engine room, Sir, see what I can do.”

“Good idea.” 

Sideswipe turned his seat around to face his commander, “Prowl, won’t the ‘cons still be out there? Even if we can go to hyperspeed, we can’t do it in this nebula, we’ll blow ourselves up and we can’t leave because the ‘cons will blow us up.”

“One impossible thing at a time, Sideswipe,” Prowl snapped and stood up, his fists clenched as he regarded the mess of the bridge. “Somebody clean this up and shut that alarm off. Jazz, senior briefing in one breem, I want solutions, I’ll be in Prime’s office.” 

“Yes Sir,” Jazz shared a glance with Sideswipe who pulled a face and jerked his helm in Prowl’s direction, prompting a helpless shrug from Jazz. 

****

Prowl didn’t look up when the door pinged, he merely barked ‘come’ and continued looking through the reports of the nebula and the current state of repairs. 

“Hey, Prowl, the briefing is ready,” standing on the other side of the desk, Jazz paused and waited. 

Glancing up after a few kliks, Prowl frowned, “Was there something else?” 

“Yes, actually. You’re in command.”

“That is a statement of the obvious, Jazz,” Prowl was perplexed and mildly irritated. “Did you come in here to remind me because I assure you, I do not need one.”

“You’ve never been in command of the ship before,” Jazz pointed out, his tone remaining even, despite Prowl’s defensive one. “It’s different from being in Iacon or on the field.” 

Prowl put the datapad he was reading down and regarded Jazz coolly. “What is your point? You don’t think I’m capable, think I should relinquish command to Ironhide? He would have us flying out of this nebula, guns blazing and have us blown to the pit. Or do you consider yourself the better choice?”

“I’m not saying any of that, Prowl, this is not an attack on you!” Jazz had no chance to finish as the ship’s comm buzzed. 

_ “We’re waiting for you, Sir,”  _ Ironhide rumbled tersely. 

_ “I’m on my way,”  _ Prowl stood. “This is the situation we’re in, Jazz. Either support me or get off my bridge.” 

Exasperated, Jazz grabbed Prowl’s arm before he could leave. “You can’t run this ship like an army, Prowl. The crew is scared, especially without Prime. You need to acknowledge that and stop thinking you’re in this alone. We will follow your orders, but let us help you mech, it’s what Prime put us in these positions for. Nobody is expecting you to be Prime.” 

Optics drawn to the hand on his arm, Prowl removed it and met Jazz’s earnest gaze. “Your concern is noted,” his words were clipped and belied the tension Prowl felt. “We have a meeting to get to.”

Blowing air from his intakes in exasperation as Prowl swept out of the room, Jazz looked up to the ceiling. “Primus give me strength,” he muttered before following the mech into the briefing room. 

****

“Report,” Prowl commanded abruptly as he marched into the briefing room. 

The officers shifted in their seats to face Prowl as he sat down in his usual seat, but not without sparing a glance for Optimus’ empty one and Ratchet was the first to speak. “Prime received a severe blow to the helm. There was some minor damage to his processor but it has been repaired and his self-repair systems have taken over. He is not currently critical.”

“When will he regain consciousness?” 

“Hard to say, there are micro connections in the processor that only his self-repair can fix,” Ratchet explained. “It’ll be done when it’s done. I’ll let you know as soon as he is.”

Prowl nodded, he hadn’t expected more than that at this stage. “Thank you, Ratchet.” He looked anticipatorily at the various faces looking back at him with just as much expectation, if not more and he felt the inordinate weight of command on his shoulders. “Current situation with the engines, Wheeljack?” he continued evenly. 

“Unchanged, Sir,” Wheeljack frowned. “I still can’t give you hyperspeed before the neutron star strips our shields and fries every circuit on this ship, including ours.” 

“That is unacceptable.”

“It’ll have to be!” the engineer snapped, giving Prowl a hard glare as he folded his arms defensively. 

Optics bright at the outburst, Prowl caught Jazz’s gaze and the subtle shake of the special ops’ mech’s helm. Remembering Jazz’s advice, he looked down at the report of the nebula and the engines and dismissed the umbrageous response that had formed on his lips and shifted tact. “Sideswipe said that this nebula was electrified, due to the star, is that correct?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Perceptor answered. “It is precisely that electrification that is bombarding our shields and will strip them, leaving us exposed to the star’s electromagnetic radiation.”

“Is there some way that can be utilised? Not to fix the engines but to give them a jump start, so to speak, so we can safely finish repairing them elsewhere?” Prowl suggested hopefully.

Perceptor sat up and perused his notes, “It is possible,” he started slowly. 

Wheeljack’s fins lit up curiously, “We would need to reconfigure the engine input and have some way of safely collecting the particles from the nebula,” he shared a look with Perceptor. “It’ll blow the engines and leave us drifting.”

“But it could provide a sudden burst, a jump to hyperspeed for a nanosecond to any coordinates,” Perceptor continued excitedly. “Freeing us from the nebula and the subsequent likely explosion that our jump would incur.”

Prowl frowned slightly as the two mechs began bouncing ideas off each other. “Can it be done?” he asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard. 

Wheeljack turned and nodded. “We’ll have to evacuate the decks of the engine room, and the decks directly above and below, it will saturate them with Primus knows how much energy and we still run the risk of frying ourselves if any of the particles have an electromagnetic field but,” he glanced at Perceptor who nodded eagerly, a smile on his face. “In theory, yes, this could work enough to get us out of here.”

“How long do you need?” 

“Half a cycle to collect enough charged particles to feed at least two of our engines and to get them repaired enough to be able to jump to hyperspeed, then another quarter of a cycle to somehow feed that into our engines and jump start them, it’ll have to be rigged to run remotely too, anyone in the vicinity will have their circuits fried,” the engineer warned.

“That’s cutting it fragging close,” Ironhide interjected.

“It’s good enough,” Prowl acquiesced. “I will divert all available resources and personnel to help you, whatever you need it’s yours, get to it,” Prowl commanded. 

“Yes Sir,” Perceptor and Wheeljack quickly left the briefing room, already discussing their ideas on the way out. 

****

“Jazz, I don’t need another lecture right now.” 

The black and white mech smirked as he sauntered into Prowl’s office and draped himself over the long sofa seat at the back of Prowl’s office. “My how the tables have turned,” he stated cryptically, clearly amused. 

Prowl regarded his friend wearily, “I get your point. What do you want, Jazz?” 

“I wanted to tell you that I thought you handled the briefing well.”

His sensor panels perked up slightly at that. “I am just grateful it didn’t devolve into an argument,” Prowl rubbed his chevron with a slight frown. “Wheeljack would never have spoken to Prime in such a way.”

“No,” Jazz began carefully, “That’s usually reserved for you,” he met Prowl’s affronted gaze with an easy smile. 

Prowl stood and paced over to his window. “Am I really that bad?” he asked, glancing back at Jazz.

“You have your moments. We all do and have, even with Prime,” Jazz made a dismissive hand wave as he patted the cushion beside him. “Come sit.”

Relenting, Prowl sat and his sensor panels sagged slightly. He hadn’t realised how much tension he had been holding in them and the joints ached on his back. “You were right, commanding a ship is very different.”

“Look, forget what I said earlier, what you did in the briefing, that was more than commanding it was leading. You saw a situation become volatile and you diffused it. You don’t expect more from mechs than you are willing to give yourself, then they respect you for it. Even Prime can’t ask for the impossible mech, matrix or no matrix, he ain’t Primus,” Jazz grinned.

“That is the thing, I am no Prime, I feel like I am being questioned at every turn and I have no Prime to turn to when mechs don’t do what I want them to. I have never been in command of a ship of 300 mechs, Jazz. I’ve only ever been on one other space ship before this and that crashed into a fiery inferno, killing most of its passengers,” his helm bowed as he leant forward on his legs.

“Prowl, don’t you get it?” Jazz sat up and pinned his friend with a steady, assured gaze. “They already see you as their leader, don’t let fear, theirs or yours get in the way of that. This is a new situation for all of us, every cycle is a new situation on this ship. Leaning on us, isn’t a sign of a bad leader, you know very well Prime leans on all of us to help run this ship, to lead it.”

Prowl smiled faintly, “Perhaps you should do it, you are far better with mechs and their emotions than I.”

Jazz shook his helm and laughed, “Prime wouldn’t have put you in this command position if he didn’t think you could take over from him when the need arose. You got this, Prowl. Just trust the rest of us to know our jobs and to have your back and to call you out when you’re being a stubborn aft.”

“Something I apparently need often,” came the dry response.

Jazz’s smile widened, “We all have our flaws, mech. Even you.”

****

“Evacuations from decks 3 and 5 are complete, Sir,” Jazz declared as his fellow black and white stepped onto the bridge.

Prowl made his way to the captain’s seat and acknowledged the mechs ready to put their crazy plan into action. “Are the engines ready, Wheeljack?”

“Engines two and four have been repaired enough to give us hyperspeed for only 3 kliks.”

“Will it be enough?” 

Fins glowing softly, Wheeljack met Prowl’s questioning optics with a slight head tilt, “It’s all we have.”

“Then it’ll have to be enough,” Prowl remarked. “Perceptor are the charged particles--

“--Already injected into the engines fuel cells, the engines are currently powered down. As soon as we engage, we will need to jump to hyperspeed immediately to expend the particles or we will explode,” the scientist explained rather cheerfully. “This has never been attempted before in the history of Cybertronian space travel,” he added eagerly. 

“Great, always wanted to be a giant fireball in space,” Sideswipe drawled sardonically from the helm. 

“Sideswipe, you will follow Perceptor’s command to jump to hyperspeed. Jazz what’s the status of the Decepticons?”

“They’re outside the nebula and they’re scanning, they haven’t risked entering or firing into it yet, though I doubt it will take them long to figure out about the charged particles and try to blow us up before we get out of here.”

“Speculation, Teletraan,” Prowl frowned thoughtfully. “Will our resulting explosion from jumping to hyperspeed destroy the Nemesis at this range?”

“Inconclusive, insufficient data to ascertain probable outcome.”

“Speculate,” Prowl commanded impatiently.

“Working,” Teletraan fell silent and the bridge waited. “There is a 37% chance the Nemesis will be damaged beyond repair.”

Jazz whistled, “That means they’ll take some damage, I’m alright with any at this point.”

“Agreed,” Prowl stated. “Wheeljack, Perceptor, we are in your hands, the bridge is yours.”

Wheeljack turned towards his console, his fins flashing erratically. “No pressure. Alright, activating engines. Ignition in 3, 2, 1, activated.”

“Charged particles are flooding decks 3 and 5. Engines at full capacity,” Perceptor called out. “Jump to hyperspeed in 3, 2, 1. Now!” 

Sideswipe hit the engage controls and the ship jolted sharply. She was only in motion for three kliks and came to a sharp halt once the engines had depleted their supply. “We’re adrift,” the red mech announced almost triumphantly. 

“You say that like it’s a good thing, Ironhide grumbled from the seat beside him. 

“We’re alive, I’d say that’s an amazing thing right now,” Sideswipe countered with a lopsided grin.

Prowl stood, “Did it work? Location?” he commanded.

Sideswipe tapped at his console, “We are over a million parsecs from our previous location and long range scanners are detecting a vast explosion.”

“Engines are fried, we have low impulse,” Wheeljack reported. 

“I have detected a rocky planet we can set down on to make repairs,” Perceptor added. “It is in a starsystem, five parsecs from here and there is a gas giant in the system too which will provide enough elements to replenish our fuel.” 

“Alright, let’s make our way there as fast as is possible,” Prowl ordered.

_ “Ratchet to bridge.” _

_ “Go ahead.” _

_ “I thought you’d like to know, he’s conscious and he’s asking for you, Prowl.” _

_ “I’m on my way.” _

Wheeljack got up, “I’ll go see to the flushing of charged particles from our decks and get started on repairing those engines, Sir.”

“Thank you, Wheeljack and good work,” Prowl replied with a small smile. The engineer canted his helm in a grateful nod at Prowl, his fins glowing softly at the compliment. “Jazz take the bridge, I need to go and explain to Prime why his ship is drifting in space with no engines and two of its five decks flooded with charged particles.”

Jazz laughed as he switched seats. “Perks of command, huh?”

“Oh, I could certainly go without, Jazz, if only the damn chair wasn’t so comfortable,” Prowl remarked dryly before the lift doors closed, cutting off the chuckles from the bridge.


	6. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a strange sort of peace on the Ark that many are struggling to adjust to.

**_1.2 Cybertronian Stellar Cycles after take-off_ **

The engines thrummed quietly through the decking of the Ark. Most mechs wouldn’t be able to hear it but Prowl could. Or rather he could feel it. The sound vibrations picked up by his sensor panels travelled through his sensor net and became an almost constant background hum in his peripheral senses. When they’d first left Cybertron it had been an almost deafening extra sense he had to cope with, yet now it was soothing, a constant he could rely on in their now constantly changing existence. 

“Hey, Prowl,” Trailbreaker paused as he was passing Prowl’s table in the rec room. “Myself and a few of the other mechs are going to play Triad, you want to join us?”

Smiling Prowl shook his helm, “No thank you, Trailbreaker, I have reports to finish.”

His tactical subordinate nodded somewhat disappointedly, “If you change your processor, we’re in Smokescreen’s office, the reports will still be there next cycle,” the large mech added graciously before heading on his way. 

The reports certainly would be there next cycle but so would the following cycle’s reports. Prowl knew his insistence on maintaining a routine and structure on board the ship had rubbed some mechs the wrong way but they had no way of knowing how long this journey would take. They had already been in space over a stellar cycle. In Prowl’s experience a lack of routine led to disruption and eventually chaos. Still, part of him missed the unending bustle of Iacon and Autobot headquarters. Space travel was proving to be far more peaceful than he had anticipated. 

His thoughts were interrupted by sudden yelling that permeated through the corridor and into the rec’ room. Prowl looked up with a frown, it sounded like Ratchet but why was the medic yelling in the corridor. More out of sheer curiosity than actual need, Prowl got up to go investigate. He found the Chief Medical Officer berating a rather sheepish looking Ironhide in the middle of the corridor, the latter holding his shoulder tightly as energon seeped through his fingers. “What’s happened?” Prowl interrupted, immediately concerned with Ironhide’s injury.

“I’ll tell you what’s fragging happened. This glitch,”

“Ratchet…”

“This  _ glitch _ ,” the medic emphasised tersely, pointing a finger at Ironhide, “thinks I have nothing better to do than to fix his sorry aft every time he injures himself at the shooting range!”

“I’m sure he doesn’t do it on purpose, Ratchet,” Prowl tried to counter-argue only for the CMO to get in his faceplates.

“This is the 17th time this stellar cycle,” the red and white mech growled out slowly. “He was injured less when we were fighting on a regular basis!” his voice rose up to a yell as his ire turned back toward Ironhide. “No more!” he jabbed an angry finger at the red mech. “First Aid can deal with you, I’m done!” 

Prowl could only watch the CMO stomp down the corridor, practically growling at mechs to get out of his way. He had neither the spark nor inclination to go after him. “Come, I will take you to medbay, make sure you get there,” he said to Ironhide who nodded mutely.  _ “First Aid, report to medbay, I’m bringing you a patient.” _

“I don’t do it on purpose you know,” Ironhide stated after Prowl cut the comm channel. “I just get carried away. I like a good fight, I miss the thrill of handing the Decepticons’ afts back to them, preferably in pieces.”

“Seventeen times, Ironhide!” Prowl pointed out in admonishment. “That is excessive to alleviate boredom, even for you, so either your skills are becoming rusty,”

“Hey!”

“Or you’re looking to regain something of the life we left behind,” Prowl continued unfazed. 

“Yeah you could be right,” the red mech admitted. “I don’t mean to make Ratch’ mad. We’re normally really good pals but recently he’s been more vocal about me getting hurt, I mean it’s not like he’s actually busy on this ship.”

Prowl thought about that for half a breem as they walked. “Perhaps, that is precisely the problem,” he suggested.

“You think he’s bored?”

“Aren’t you?” 

Ironhide nodded as they entered the medbay, “Fair point, just not sure what can be done about it, when we’re stuck on this pit-spawned ship.”

“I doubt you are the only one feeling this way, I will see what I can do?” Prowl offered as he nodded a silent greeting to First Aid.

“Sure Prowl, but if this ends up with me getting more duty shifts and reports to write, the next mech getting shot will be you.”

Prowl smirked faintly, “So noted. Do be careful on the range, if not for your sake, then for Ratchet’s.”

“Not making any promises,” Ironhide called out as Prowl left him in the medbay. “Not like I have anything better to do,” he muttered somewhat dejectedly.

****

Brawn huffed loudly and shoved his custom made pillow - a guilty pleasure he enjoyed and kept to himself - over his helm. When the regular ‘clunk’, ‘clunk’, ‘clunk’ echoing through his quarters didn’t abate, he threw his precious pillow to one side and sat up. “I’m going to crush his helm into a ball bearing and see how he likes having it ringing through his processor.” Stopping at the quarters besides his own he pummelled on the door loudly. “Open up, ‘Charger, I fraggin’ well know you’re in there!”

Staring at the door, throwing a metal ball to one side of the room with a flick of his hand, he got up and was met with a rather angry Brawn. 

“What?” 

“You think it’s fraggin’ funny throwing your pit-spawned ball at my wall when I’m trying to recharge?” 

“Oh come on, you’re always recharging, it’s not hurting anyone.”

“Not hurting anyone? How would you feel like it if you had clank clank clank ringing around your processor for three groons?” Brawn emphasised his complaint by rapping on Windcharger’s helm three times, much to the other mech’s consternation. 

“Quit it!” he shoved the other mech back roughly. Bad enough he was stuck on this tin can of a ship but now he couldn’t even entertain himself in his quarters. “Or I’ll do more than throw it at walls.”

Brawn steadied himself and clenched his fists, “Oh bring it on, ‘sparky, you think you can take me?”

“Don’t think,” Windcharger flicked his hand and his titanium ball flew across his quarters and smacked Brawn right between the optics with a clang, “I know.”

“That does it!” Brawn let out a holler of fury, he launched himself at Windcharger sending them careening into the bulkhead as they grappled and threw punches at each other. 

Not one to lay down in a fight, Windcharger activated the electro-magnets in both arms and flipped Brawn bodily into the ceiling, getting to his feet as Brawn slammed to the deck with a grunt. He didn’t give the mech chance to come at him again and flung him down the corridor, his optics going bright with shock as he watched Brawn collide straight into the Autobot second in command, sending them both to the floor in an awkward heap.

Prowl onlined his optics and stared up at the ceiling of the corridor. “Would somebody care to explain what is going on?” he uttered from underneath Brawn.

The other mech scrambled up quickly and helped Prowl to his feet. “Sorry Prowl, Windcharger started it,” he growled out, glaring at the other mortified mech approaching them.

“I didn’t mean to hit you, Sir, but he knocked on my door and then picked a fight, I was minding my own business,” Windcharger explained contritely.

“Yeah, minding your own business throwing your ball against my wall constantly you slagger.”

“If you like I can keep throwing you against the wall?” Windcharger warned, his plating flaring.

“Oh just try it you pit-spawned --”

“-- Enough!” Prowl bellowed. “I’ve heard enough. You were fighting,” he vented a sigh. “Windcharger, stop throwing things against the bulkhead.”

“But--”

“--If you keep doing it, I will confiscate everything you can throw and then throw you in the brig,” Prowl didn’t pause as he rounded on Brawn. “You stop trying to solve all your problems with your fists, this is the third time, Brawn.”

The mech growled softly and pulled a face. “I hate being cooped up on this ship.”

“It is not ideal for anyone,” Prowl pointed out with sympathy. “Now please go back to your quarters and stop fighting for one cycle. Think you can both manage that?” 

The two mechs gave short nods and stomped back to their quarters, leaving Prowl standing in the corridor wondering what he was going to do about the increasing incidents of fighting on board the Ark. 

_ “Red Alert to Prowl.” _

_ “Go ahead.” _

_ “There’s a disturbance in warehouse 4 and no stock take is scheduled for another 5 cycles.”  _

_ “There are only spare parts in warehouse 4,”  _ Prowl was perplexed. _ “I shall investigate, Prowl out.” _

****

Entering the dark warehouse, Prowl frowned and activated the lights. “Hello?” he called out curiously.  _ “Red, there doesn’t seem to be anybody here.” _

_ “The scanners don’t lie, Prowl.” _

Biting back his retort to Red Alert’s perceived doubts of him, Prowl ventured further into the warehouse and after a short while, he found Cosmos, curled up on the floor, in recharge. Crouching down he placed a hand on the mech’s shoulder and gently shook him awake.

“Umm…? Oh!” Cosmos sat up quickly. “Prowl, I… oh I must’ve fallen into recharge.” 

Looking around the warehouse in confusion, Prowl returned his gaze to Cosmos, “Why here?”

Cosmos gave a little shrug, “It’s a wide space. I can hover for a little while, without crashing into anything or drawing attention. Plus it’s in a quiet part of the ship so I can hear space. I must’ve just fallen into recharge and lost track of time.”

“Hear space,” Prowl repeated incredulously.

“The vibrations, stars, nebula, planets, this ship is very loud.”

“Ah, I understand some of what you are feeling,” Prowl offered his hand. He did understand a little but his sensor net was unlikely to be as sensitive as Cosmos who was designed to travel through the vacuum of space. “It must be difficult being trapped on the Ark for so long.”

“We make do,” Cosmos gave Prowl a small smile as he stood. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

Dismissing it with a wave, Prowl returned the smile. “Think nothing of it, just try not to recharge here? It makes Red more paranoid than he needs to be.”

“Got it, thanks, Prowl.” 

Prowl watched the mech leave and frowned in thought. Perhaps there was something he could do.

****

“Prowler!” Jazz called out across the rec’ room. “Been looking for you, you weren’t at morning briefing,” he slid into the seat opposite Prowl and peered at the datapads. 

“Yes, I already sent my apologies to Prime.”

“Mech have you even been to recharge yet?”

“No but soon,” Prowl threw him a cryptic smile. “I’m nearly finished.”

“What are you working on?”

“Things that I hope will help make the journey more tolerable.”

Jazz raised an optic ridge, “That doesn’t seem important enough for you to miss a meeting.”

“I decided it was,” Prowl finished up the final datapad and handed the stack of them to Jazz. “Could you take these to Prime?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to recharge.”

“You’re taking the cycle? That’s absurd, you never take a cycle off.”

Prowl smirked at Jazz and got up, swallowing the remainder of his energon, “Sometimes, Jazz, you just have to bow to the absurd.”

****

“He gave you these and left?” Prime asked with mild disbelief.

“Yes, Sir, mighty odd for Prowl,” Jazz shrugged. 

“From what Red Alert tells me he was up most of the dark cycle dealing with one incident or another. That might explain these,” Optimus smiled as he read out the datapad. “Regular shooting tournaments at the range, training offered for those wanting to hone their skills or learn a new one.”

Jazz picked up another datapad. “Wrestling matches, live fights arranged every second deca-cycle. Register your weight class,” he read. “Medics on hand and field medical training offered for mechs wishing to get involved. Prizes for winners.”

“Scouting missions for Cosmos,” Optimus hummed. “That’s not something I thought about but would be very useful, he is built for space travel,” he commented. 

“He came up with this all in one dark cycle,” Jazz exclaimed incredulously. “But why?”

Optimus met his gaze, “You don’t think they’re good ideas?”

“You kidding? I think they’re great! A lot of the mechs are going to be thrilled, especially with the organised fights and shooting tournaments,” Jazz grinned. “I guess that’s what he meant by bowing to the absurd.” 

****

Settling in his quarters, Prowl smiled to himself with satisfaction as he sank into his Praxian plush chair. Venting a long soft sigh, he let his optics flicker off and sipped his warmed energon. He fanned his sensor panels and the familiar low thrum of the ship vibrated subtly through his systems, gently lulling him into a peaceful recharge.

****


	7. Take Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes and new beginnings. Start as you mean to go on

**_T-minus 2 cycles to take off._ **

“Bluestreak, will you please come out of there?” the black and white mech stood outside the door, his palm pressed to its surface as he implored his young charge to listen. He was upset, Prowl understood that but he wanted them to talk it through, not leave things like this.

“You promised!” came the retort, full of hurt and confusion. 

Sensor panels drooping on his back, Prowl’s optics dimmed and he rested his forehelm against the cool metal of the door. “Blue, you know what it is I do, you know I have to go. I never wanted to… to let you down. I know I promised and I’m so sorry that I won’t be able to be here but please know that taking care of you has been a highlight of my life. I don’t want this fight to be your last memory of me… please Blue.” 

“But you promised,” the voice called out, smaller, more timid. “I don’t want you to go, I don’t want to be alone again.”

Prowl’s spark hurt at the words. “I know…” he whispered. “I wish there was another way.”

The door opened slightly and the young mech peered out, visibly upset. “You always told me that nothing is impossible. If we just stop and think and try. What if I come with you?”

“It’s not safe, Blue--”

“--but--”

“Blue, we’re leading Megatron and his army off the planet so you can be safe, so everyone here has a fighting chance and to get the Matrix as far away from him as possible. It is too dangerous and I would be devastated if anything were to happen to you,” Prowl explained. 

Bluestreak couldn’t stop the coolant nor his vents from hitching between each word, “But what if something were to happen to you?”

“Oh, Bluestreak,” Prowl wrapped his arms around the young mech tightly and held him as he sobbed. There were no words he could use to take away his pain or his fear. He wanted desperately for things to be different but there was nothing to be done. All they could do now was make the most of the time given to them.

****

**_T-minus 1 cycle to take off_ **

The red and white mech gave Prowl a smile, “Is he ready?”

“As he’ll ever be, he didn’t rest very much,” Prowl turned to face Bluestreak as he came out of his room. “Got your things?”

The young Praxian nodded and hugged Prowl tightly without saying a word. “You promise you’ll come back for me?” 

Prowl nodded, “I promise you I will try. I shall miss you, Bluestreak.” 

Holding his gaze, Bluestreak inhaled slowly before turning to Streetstar, “I’m ready, let’s go.” 

Prowl gave them a little wave as they left his apartment. Once they’d gotten into the transport and disappeared into traffic did he allow the door to slide shut. Spark sinking, he let himself slide down to the ground, his back against the cool metal as he buried his face in his hands. From where they were going, he didn’t know if there was a coming back. “Forgive me, Blue,” he murmured into the empty apartment.

****

Jazz met his fellow black and white as he was boarding. “Prowler!”

“Prowl.”

Smirking at the familiar correction, Jazz fell into step beside him. “So how did it go with Bluestreak?” he asked gently. 

“About as well as I could have hoped.”

“That bad huh?”

“It was awful, Jazz, he’ll never forgive me.”

“Hey,” Jazz caught Prowl’s arms and stopped him in his tracks, “That young mech adores you. Nothing is going to change that, he understands what’s at stake better than most, Primus he’s lived through the worst of it. You made the right call, Prowl.”

“Then why does it feel like the worst decision I have ever made?”

Jazz gave him a sad smile, “Because leaving behind someone you love ain’t ever supposed to feel good.” 

Prowl stared at Jazz for a long hard moment and vented a sigh. “Does it pass?”

“No idea, mech, not something I’ve ever had to do,” Jazz replied wistfully. Jazz was a sociable mech but he also felt like the loneliest mech on Cybertron many cycles. His upbringing in Polihex had forced him to build a wall around himself, keep others out. He never let any mech see more than he intended them to see and never the complete picture. As a result he had never grown particularly attached to any one mechanoid. He cared but it was always from a distance. Despite this, seeing Prowl, his normally composed and in control Prowl, so distressed made Jazz’s spark tighten. This mech he’d let in a little bit more and was silently glad he wasn’t having to say goodbye to him now. “You good?” he asked softly.

Prowl gave a small nod, “I will be. We should report to the bridge, Prime will be waiting. Has Red Alert reported for duty yet?” 

“Not yet, but I’m sure we’ll hear him before we see him,” Jazz chuckled as they walked up the boarding ramp to the Ark.

****

His optics went bright at the sheer size of the vessel and his mouth fell open. Persuading Streetstar to let him go to the city had been easier than he’d anticipated and thanks to living with Prowl for several vorns he knew the location of the takeoff. Still seeing it in person was enough to glitch a processor. He knew Streetstar would be upset but he would find the note he left when he finished work, he would know where he was and that he was safe. 

Making sure he blended in with the throngs of mechs and femmes going back and forth, he headed into the lower levels of the Ark a small pleased smile on his face. He wasn’t losing his family again, not now when he was old enough and big enough to do something about it. 

His spark pulsed hard with trepidation and excitement when he saw Jazz, Prowl’s friend barking orders at the boarding soldiers and technicians finishing up their work on the engines. Jazz had met him and would recognise him so he ducked behind a much taller golden mech who was arguing quietly with the red mech beside him, then he slipped past Jazz and onto the ship. Elated by his success, he quickly accessed the blueprint he’d stolen from Prowl’s computer and immediately ducked out of sight.

****

“Prowl, how are we proceeding?” Optimus asked as he stepped onto the bridge. “Is she ready to fly?”

“In a few breems, Sir. Boarding is complete, we're just loading the last of the supplies.”

_“Ultra Magnus to the Ark.”_

_“Prowl here.”_

_“We have completed boarding, closing the hatches. Is Prime on board?”_

_“I’m here, old friend.”_

_“Primus go with you, Optimus. May fortune favour you and this ship.”_

_“Thank you, good fortune here, take care of our home.”_

_“We will do our best, Prime.”_

_“Until all are one.”_

_“Until all are one, Prime. Ultra Magnus out.”_

“Ready ignition of engines,” Optimus stepped up to his chair and sat down. 

“Engines ready, Sir,” Sideswipe called back from the helm. “Let’s roll out.”

The ship shook as the ignition sequence fired and the engines burst into life. They rose from the lift off platform smoothly and Optimus switched the viewer to watch Cybertron fall away beneath them. 

“Sir! Getting reports of shooting at the launch site!” Jazz announced suddenly. “Holy frag, they have a ship, a massive ship, on scanners, it’s on an intercept course!” 

“Sideswipe now!”

“Engaging hyperspeed, now,” Sideswipe fed in the controls but just as hyperspeed was firing, they were hit from behind and sent careening into space at unspeakable velocities.

“Report!” 

“They fired on us as we entered hyperspace, we are caught in a spin, engine four is not responding!” Sideswipe shouted over the alarm of the ship and Teletraan’s calm alerts. 

“Pull us out of it!” Prowl commanded urgently.

“I can’t, Sir, something else is interfering, it’s a massive gravity well, fraggit!” the red mech swore, “I’ve lost all helm control!” 

“Brace yourselves!” Optimus bellowed as the Ark threatened to tear itself apart.

****

On the observation deck, hiding in a large ventilation unit, one young mech held on as tight as he could as he stared out of the ship’s viewing ports. He could only gasp in horror as he watched a vast hole in space grow larger as they veered irrevocably towards it. Offlining his optics, Bluestreak stayed still and held on in a death grip, as he remembered his creator’s words. ‘ _Don’t move, stay quiet and no matter what you hear, don’t let go.’_ Never again would Bluestreak let himself be left behind.

Although, just maybe his brilliant plan wasn’t quite so brilliant after all. It would have been nice to have Prowl know he was onboard. Still, in spite of the chaos surrounding him as the Ark was sucked remorselessly into a wormhole and away from the only home he’d ever known, part of his spark was calmed by the fact he was on the same ship as Prowl. If he was to deactivate here, at least it would be with Prowl, the only family he had left.

****


End file.
